


Pinefest

by MittenWraith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Case Fic, Crack, Dean is temporarily a tree, Long-Suffering Sam Winchester, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed, but really this is so much crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-02 15:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15799062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenWraith/pseuds/MittenWraith
Summary: A hunt for a witch in the woods leads to the entirely wrong sort of pining for Dean and Cas.





	Pinefest

**Author's Note:**

> A conversation with [Crypto](http://pantydean.tumblr.com/) a few weeks ago led to this fun little idea. She wanted to see Actual Pine in the Pinefest, and I hereby picked up that gauntlet. Consider this an invitation to sign up for [The Dean/Cas Pinefest](http://deancaspinefest.tumblr.com/) as either an author or artist and show us your take on pining. :)
> 
> (there will be Crypto art to go with this soon! WHEEE!)

“We’ve been walking in circles through this damn forest, Sam,” Dean said. “I’m pretty sure we saw that tree an hour ago.”

“No, the gps says we’ve covered two linear miles in the last forty minutes, see?” Sam replied, turning the screen around to show Dean the neatly plotted path they’d hiked in search of the witch they’d been hunting for the last three days. “We haven’t even been in the woods for an hour yet.”

Dean looked at the craggy green line that marked their progress and scowled. “This is worse than Purgatory. At least you felt like you were getting something done there.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, getting attacked by dead monsters on a continuous basis is really getting stuff done. Meanwhile back here in reality, the gps says there’s a clearing up ahead and the satellite overlay shows what looks like some sort of abandoned campground. There’s half a dozen buildings, and I bet our witch is hiding in one of them.”

“Should we split up and search the buildings?” Cas asked, while Dean sarcastically mouthed  _ the gps says  _ behind Sam’s back.

“No,” Dean said with finality. “No splitting up. We got no clue if there’s a whole coven hiding out in there, or if she’s been hunkered down here alone long enough to booby trap the entire camp. We stick together and watch each other's backs until we know what the fuck is up.”

Cas nodded, looking pleased by Dean’s rationale, and Sam shrugged, but they both fell back and let Dean take the lead. He drew his gun loaded with witch killing bullets and waited for Sam and Cas to arm themselves before giving them a nod and approaching the edge of the clearing around the camp.

Just as Sam’s gps predicted, half a dozen ramshackle cabins were arranged in a semicircle, the surrounding forest and decades of neglect slowly reclaiming them. The clearing was overgrown with weeds aside from the area around a large bonfire pit. The pit itself looked disconcertingly as if it still saw frequent, recent use. The remains of the last fire still smoldered within a ring of darkly charred stones. As Dean cautiously approached, he spotted what looked like the scorched remains of bones among the embers. He shuddered and tried not to think about the seven people who’d gone missing around town over the last few months, and pressed on toward the first of the decaying buildings.

The door of the cabin had long since fallen off its hinges, but had been propped up haphazardly to partially barricade the open doorway. Dean pushed his way through an outcropping of waist-high pine saplings in his rush to reach the cover of shadows beneath the sagging eaves. He made it two long paces beyond the last tree before he was overcome with a feeling of heaviness, as if gravity was exponentially stronger in that one spot.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” Cas called out in as loud a whisper as he dared as Dean dropped to his knees and writhed in pain.

Sam held Cas back from running to Dean’s aid while scanning the rest of the camp in case the witch had overheard the ruckus. Cas understood Sam’s plea for caution, and instead of making a beeline straight for Dean, he jogged around the potentially cursed pine grove to better assess the situation. And then watched in horror as Dean… shrank. His legs were swallowed up by the soil suddenly turned to quicksand and the rest of his clothing fell away as Dean’s broad shoulders narrowed into thin, woody branches. The last thing Cas saw before Dean was entirely obscured by long, green pine needles was the look on his face-- not one of horror or agony or fear, but one of abject regret.

Without a thought for Sam or himself, or concern that he might also be entrapped by the same spell that had ensnared Dean, he ran to Dean’s side and knelt on the ground beside his discarded jacket and flannel, reaching for Dean’s branches in the vain hope of finding Dean trapped inside. While Cas was entirely absorbed in rescuing Dean, Sam had spotted the witch attempting to escape. In her haste, she slipped on a pile of shingles that had slid off the roof of the decrepit cabin she’d been hiding in, and without hesitation Sam aimed his gun and fired three shots. Cas didn’t even flinch at the sound, or at the witch’s cry of pain. She took two stumbling steps-- eerily reminiscent of Dean’s final steps-- before she dropped to her knees and then landed face down on the ground.

Sam risked a quick glance back over his shoulder at Cas and his brother who was now apparently a pine tree before walking carefully over to the witch’s body. He knelt down and felt for a pulse, but she was well and truly dead. They still weren’t out of the woods yet, and there could still have been other witches lurking in the underbrush or cabins nearby. Sam didn’t let his guard down as he skirted the overgrown meadow at the center of camp, sticking as close to the buildings as he could, keeping an eye out both for additional witches as well as avoiding any other magical booby traps. As he passed each cabin, he peered through the filthy and broken windows, but only one of the buildings showed any signs of habitation-- a single sleeping bag laid out on a pallet beside a small shelf filled with books and jars of spell ingredients. Relieved that they likely weren’t looking for a coven, Sam turned all his attention to figuring out what the hell had happened to Dean.

“She’s dead,” Sam said as he approached Cas’s side, kneeling down and studying the tree-- or Dean-- intently. “He’s, uh, not turning back, is he.”

Cas ignored Sam and continued his conversation with the tree. “Dean, we’ll find a way to fix this. There must be a spell to reverse this. We’re going to bring you back, Dean. Do you hear me?” He hesitantly reached out and ran his hand over Dean’s lush needles, hoping that if Dean were still conscious in there that he wouldn’t experience the touch as inappropriate. He was pretty sure that branch had been Dean’s shoulder.

Dean shivered at the touch, and as much as a tree could express relief, he did, his needles gently caressing Cas’s fingers. Or it could’ve just been the wind rustling through his branches.

“Cas, I saw a stack of books in one of the cabins. There’s gotta be something in there to undo this spell.”

“That’s good, Sam,” Cas replied, still not taking his eyes from Dean, and not really paying much attention to Sam.

Sam sighed, recognizing that Cas was in a state of shock. He got to his feet and stood there for a moment, torn between wanting to stay with both Dean and Cas until he was sure they would both be okay, and wanting to find a countercurse as soon as possible in case this wasn’t something that would just wear off. Or worse, in case it was something that would become more difficult to reverse as time wore on. He shook himself off, gave Cas a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and then jogged back around the meadow.

First things first, though, he needed to salt and burn the witch's body. They hadn’t brought a lot of supplies with them, but he did have a small flask of kerosene. He dragged her body to the fire pit filled with creepy bones, figuring adding a few more wouldn’t make much difference at this point. There was a stack of firewood nearby, and Sam piled on enough to hopefully take care of the witch. He doused the whole thing in kerosene, shook out a handful of salt from another flask, and then tossed in a match. The flames caught and roared, but a glance back at Cas proved that even burning her body hadn’t done anything to reverse the spell on Dean. Sam sighed and headed back to the witch’s library as her pyre burned on.

The interior of her cabin was dank and chilly, despite it being a warm and sunny afternoon outside. The state of the cabin only reminded Sam of just how much Dean disliked witches in general. He really couldn’t argue with Dean after this.

Sam crossed the water damaged and creaking floorboards to the shelf. The air in the cabin felt oppressive, and all he wanted to do was flee back into the sunshine. Rather than remaining there to page through the collection, he scooped up all eleven books, gave the remaining unlabeled jars and bottles a disapproving frown, and carried the the books outside.

“This was everything she had on display,” Sam said, dropping to the ground beside Cas and setting the stack of books down between them.

Cas just closed his eyes, a pained look on his face as he continued to gently caress the tree’s needles. Sam wondered if Cas was somehow attempting to commune with Dean, but the entire notion left him feeling slightly uncomfortable so he turned his focus to finding a cure in the books.

Several hours passed and Sam had only made it through four of the books. Cas had idly leafed through one of them, but the majority of his focus was still on the tree. He occasionally spoke aloud to it, and it was then that Sam was jarringly reminded that it wasn’t just a tree, but Dean. When he looked up from his reading to check on Cas, Sam noticed the light had changed, and shadows stretched across the clearing as the sun began to drop down behind the tallest pines. He was torn, because they weren’t equipped for camping and he didn’t want to leave Dean alone lest some animal come by and crush him in the night. He’d never forgive himself if he left Dean out in the wilderness, defenseless, to be sat on by wild bears. Sam was also pretty sure he’d be unable to convince Cas to leave Dean’s side. But his stomach was growling, they’d run out of water over an hour ago, and soon he wouldn’t have enough light to read by. According to his phone app, the temperature was also supposed to drop precipitously overnight. They really couldn’t stay out in the open much longer. It wouldn’t help Dean if both he and Cas succumbed to exposure. He very cautiously broached the subject with Cas.

“Cas, you know we can’t stay here much longer, right? We gotta take what we can carry back to the motel to keep looking for a cure.”

Cas frowned at that, and then sized up the Dean tree before narrowing his eyes in determination at Sam. “Then I’ll carry Dean,” he said with finality.

“He’s uh, kinda rooted to the earth, Cas,” Sam said as gently as he could manage. “It's not like we can just pull him outta the ground or chop him down like a Christmas tree. I think we’re gonna have to leave him here for now.”

Cas shook his head. “If we can’t dig him up, then I refuse to abandon him, Sam. What if the spell reverses at midnight? Or at dawn?” Cas asked, his voice rising into uncharted territory as he was overcome with concern for Dean. “We can’t risk the spell wearing off with neither of us nearby to care for him. I’m sure he’ll be in a state of shock. It’s unnatural for a human to be turned into wood. And I promised him I wouldn’t abandon him just because he’s temporarily… woody.”

Sam tried his damnedest to keep his face under control. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry or stick his fingers in his ears and beg Cas to never describe Dean as  _ woody  _ again. This was a serious situation, on top of never wanting to think of Dean and wood in the same sentence again. He sighed after he dismissed his errant thoughts, and relented. Cas did make a valid point.

“Fine, if you can get him dug up without damaging any of his… roots… then we’ll bring him back to the motel.” He collected his discarded books and got to his feet. “I’m gonna leave the ones I already went through and make a sweep of the rest of the buildings for charms, books, and spells while we still have enough light. But be careful. Dean wouldn’t be too happy if we permanently severed any of his… parts…”

Sam mentally berated himself for even thinking it, but Cas took his warning with dead seriousness and began to dig into the soft earth around Dean’s trunk with his hands. As he worked, he kept up a litany of apologies and reassurance. Sam listened for a moment and then fled before Cas’s apologies became any more descriptive. The last thing he heard before he raced out of earshot was Cas begging Dean’s forgiveness for taking liberties with his taproot.

When Sam was gone, Cas sighed and leaned his forehead against Dean’s uppermost branches. “I don’t know if you can hear me, or if you’ll remember any of this, but I swear I will do everything in my power to bring you back, Dean. You’ve never abandoned me, and I won’t abandon you now. I… Dean, I… I care too much about you to let you spend eternity as a pine.”

Resolved to do whatever it would take, to give whatever he had to restore Dean to his human, not-woody state, Cas continued to dig, apologizing every time he inadvertently brushed his hand over one of Dean’s roots. It wasn’t long before he discovered that Dean’s entire root ball was contained within the sturdy fabric of his jeans, buried just below the surface. None of his delicate roots would need to be carefully teased out of the ground. He practically cried for joy as he easily lifted Dean out of his pants and gently set him on the ground.

“There, that’s better, isn’t it?” he asked of Dean, but Dean only tipped over and landed on the ground with a soft fwoosh.

Cas sighed and debated trying to prop Dean upright, but with an uneven and lumpy root ball and nothing close at hand to support him, he left him there to rest for now. Instead Cas continued to dig, pulling Dean’s boxers, pants, and boots out of the shallow hole and shaking off the dirt. Sam returned as Cas banged Dean’s boots together, sending clods of mud flying several feet in every direction. He noticed Dean lying on the ground and frowned.

“You think he’ll be okay with his roots exposed like that?”

Cas studied Dean for a moment, his brow creasing with concern. He could swear the tree looked embarrassed, like it had been caught with its pants down. It was literally true, after all, since Dean’s pants were now folded neatly a few feet away and stacked neatly with his other clothing and weapons. The pile of clothes gave Cas an idea, though. He pulled out Dean’s flannel shirt and laid it on the ground beside the hole. He stretched the sleeves out to either side and then carefully stood Dean up in the center of the fabric, being careful not to tangle his roots uncomfortably.

“Will you hold him steady for a moment, Sam?” Cas asked, looking imploringly up at Sam.

Sam nodded, set down the few other books he’d found on his search, and knelt down opposite Cas. He reached out tentatively, wanting to hold Dean steady but not really having any idea where to grab on. He settled on a section of trunk about six inches below the crown of the tree and hoped it was about where Dean’s neck or shoulder would be.

“Is that good?” he asked.

Cas nodded and set to work scooping loose soil over Dean’s roots. When he had enough to stabilize the root ball, he carefully wrapped the flannel around the base of the tree as if he were swaddling an infant, using the sleeves to secure the whole bundle together. Now that he was contained-- and not technically naked anymore-- Dean was far more content to remain upright. When Cas was finished and Sam let go, Dean seemed relieved, anyway. At least Cas liked to imagine Dean would’ve been relieved by even such a minor improvement in his circumstances at that point.

“So how are we gonna carry everything?” Sam asked, looking from Dean and his pile of clothes to the large stack of books he needed to bring with them.

Cas, now far more comfortable and accustomed to handling Dean in this form, settled his hand on Dean’s trunk just above his plaid-encased root ball, gave the trunk a reassuring little pat and then laid out Dean’s jacket on the ground in front of Sam like an old timey movie character laying his coat on the ground with a flourish for a woman to walk across a puddle. Sam stared at him for a moment and then understood. He knelt down and began stacking the books on top of the jacket. He was barely able to do up the zipper around the huge stack, but it sort of worked as an impromptu satchel. It was still better than carrying the entire stack in his arms two miles through the woods back to where they’d parked the Impala.

“You gonna be able to carry Dean and the rest of his clothes and shit?” Sam asked, looking up in time to see Cas tucking the last of Dean’s weapons into his own coat.

He fished Dean’s keys out of the pocket of his jeans and handed them to Sam. “I’ll manage.”

Cas loosely tied the laces of Dean’s boots together and draped them over one shoulder. He shoved Dean’s socks and boxers into one of the boots and his t-shirt into the other.  He apologized again to Dean, lifting him up and cradling his root ball against his hip before picking up his folded jeans with his other hand.

Sam watched him work and had to snap himself out of his daze when Cas was ready to go. It was too bizarre, watching the care Cas took with Dean, even as a tree. It was even more bizarre on the occasions where it seemed Dean was reciprocating. There was no way a tree could be that  _ clingy _ , for lack of any other description for what he was witnessing. Dean’s branches settled around Cas’s body with what Sam could only describe as obvious relief. One branch in particular seemed to caress Cas’s cheek as he moved. Even when Cas was standing perfectly still, Dean gave a little shudder, his needles settling into place around Cas’s shoulder.

Sam shook away the notion that he was witnessing a tree express  _ tenderness _ , blew out a huge breath and set his gps to lead them down the quickest route back to where Dean had parked the Impala. They weren’t trying to be as cautious or quiet as they had been while hunting for the witch, and despite their new physical burdens they still made it back to the car in less than half an hour. The sky had turned golden and then faded through reds and purples, the sun just dipping below the horizon as they emerged from the trailhead beside Baby.

Sam opened the trunk and dropped in the bundle of books with a sigh of relief. He stood there stretching out his aching back muscles as Cas caught up to him. Cas was still carrying on a quiet, one-sided conversation with the tree. Most of his words had gone unheard by Sam, partly because he'd had other things on his mind as they trudged through the forest, but mostly because Sam felt like he was intruding on something private every time he caught a few stray words. He heard Cas’s sigh of relief as he reached the car, and left the trunk open for Cas to set the tree down beside the books. Cas, however had other plans. He bypassed Sam and the open trunk entirely, walking around to the front passenger door.

“Um, hey, Cas?” Sam said. “I, uh, think Dean would probably be pissed if that tree dropped dirt and pine needles all over the upholstery.”

Cas gave Sam a strange look of disbelief. “I think Dean would be equally pissed if I were to shove him in the trunk like luggage.”

Sam blinked at that, then shook his head. “Okay, you have a point. But we’re not bringing a tree into a diner. It doesn’t matter if it’s actually Dean. It’s not like he can eat a burger in that state anyway.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Cas replied, looking forlornly at the tree cradled in his arms. “He’s going to be starving when he recovers. At the very least, I believe he needs to be watered soon.”

“Yeah…” Sam replied, finally slamming the trunk and trying not to picture Cas watering Dean. For the first time since they’d checked into their motel two days earlier, he was grateful that they’d had to get three single rooms at the motel that catered to newlyweds and couples, instead of sharing like they usually did.  “Okay, so maybe we can hit up a drive through and you can get Dean back and stick him in the shower or something.”

Cas smiled at that, and then at Dean. “That’s a good idea.”

They arrived back at the motel early enough to check out of Dean’s room and save themselves a bit of cash. Sam brought his things to Cas, who’d sat Dean in one of the chairs at the small table where he was finishing off his dinner. Cas met Sam at the door, thanked him for Dean’s bag, and then mercifully closed the door again without inviting Sam inside. The last thing Sam heard as he headed next door to his own room was Cas apologizing to Dean for eating in front of him while he couldn’t. He really needed to hit the books and fix this before Cas completely lost his marbles over it.

 ~*~*~*~

Cas set Dean’s bag down beside his own on the dresser, and then sighed as he sat back down to finish his burger. “I feel terrible eating in front of you when you can’t, Dean, but I’ll get you watered in just a minute.”

He cleared away his trash and then set about figuring out how best to attend to Dean’s needs. He picked Dean up and carried him into the spacious bathroom. It was the only beneficial feature of staying in a place that billed itself as a honeymoon retreat. Aside from the large tub, there was an oversized shower designed for two and a double sink. He set Dean down in one of the sinks and frowned down at his flannel-wrapped root ball.

“I know you love this shirt, and I’m sorry for what I’m about to do to it, but mud can be washed out. You need to drink, and I don’t have any other means to take care of your needs.”

He filled a cup with water from the other tap and carefully poured it down Dean’s trunk, trying to dampen the dirt around his roots without soaking the flannel casing. It took several cups of water, but Cas was finally satisfied that Dean wouldn’t dry out overnight. He closed his eyes for a moment and made a decision he’d been holding in reserve as a last resort. Cas reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out something he’d snagged from the Impala’s glove box while Sam had been packing up Dean’s room.

“I know there’s a lot of pain attached to this,” he started, holding up the amulet that was supposed to have the power to locate God. He draped it carefully over one of Dean’s branches. “But in your current circumstance, I didn’t want you to forget who you are. This is a part of you, regardless of its past disappointments. Maybe keeping it close will help you remember.”

His heart was breaking, but Dean remained as wooden and pine-scented as ever. Cas squeezed his eyes shut to hold back his tears. He promised himself that he wouldn’t cry in front of Dean, at least not like this. With a heavy feeling pulling at his chest, Cas decided the best thing he could do for Dean was what Dean normally did for him. Keep going on like everything would eventually work itself out. He steeled his spine and gave himself an encouraging nod in the mirror, and then began to take off his clothes.

“I don’t know if you can see me in this state, or even if you can hear me, but that hasn’t stopped me from talking to you anyway. But if you can, I’m still sorry for any indignity you suffered this afternoon. I hope I didn’t cause you any embarrassment. And I hope this isn’t causing you any embarrassment either.”

Cas turned his back to the tree as he slipped out of his dirt-stained jeans and boxers and climbed into the shower. He missed the shiver that shot through Dean’s branches, rustling his needles, and kept up his conversation over the warm rush of water. As soon as he was clean, Cas reached for a towel, quickly dried himself off, and then wrapped the towel around his waist. He spoke to Dean again as he left the bathroom for a moment.

“I’ll be right back. I need to find somewhere safe to put you in case you revert to your original form overnight. It would be uncomfortable and potentially hazardous for you to change back in the sink, but in your current state I’m worried you’ll leak on the furniture.”

Cas frowned to himself as he pulled on a clean t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He had an empty plastic bag in his duffel in case he ever found himself with wet or muddy clothing on a hunt and needed to keep it separate from his clean and dry clothes. He pulled it out and carried it back to the bathroom.

“I know this isn’t ideal, Dean, but it’s the best I can do for now. Apologies again if this is in any way uncomfortable for you.”

He untied the flannel bundle and scooped Dean’s roots-- dirt and all-- into the plastic bag, and then set Dean back into the sink. He rinsed out the muddy flannel shirt and hung it up in the shower to dry. That taken care of, he turned his attention back to Dean.

“I’m going to try to make you as comfortable as possible now. I only hope you’re not upset with me in the morning.”

What he didn’t say aloud was how much he longed for Dean to be able to express his upset. He’d be grateful to listen to Dean complaining about how Cas had treated him while he was a tree, if only because it would mean that Dean was himself again.

He carried Dean to the bed and carefully propped him up on the second pillow, debating whether or not to tuck the blankets around his plastic-covered roots. He decided it was the most appropriate thing to do. When Dean was tucked into bed as well as he could manage, because it was predictably difficult to tuck a tree into bed, Cas climbed under the covers himself and turned out the light. In the dark, it was easier to say some of the things he’d been talking in circles around for the last few hours.

“I know you’re still technically here, and it’s only been a few hours, but I miss you, Dean.”

Cas let that hang in the air between them before forcing himself to go on. “If you can hear me, and if you remember this, I hope you don’t think it’s unfair that I’ve taken liberties with your inability to stop me from speaking this way. It’s not as if you can leave the room or change the subject or ask me to stop talking.”

He glanced over in the dark and could make out the rough outline of Dean’s branches leaning gently back against the headboard.

“You have to come back to me, Dean. I know I’ve said the words to you before, but you need to hear them again. I love you, Dean. Knowing you has been the best part of my life. And I swear I will keep reminding you of that fact until you come back to me. You’re loved, Dean. You’re needed. And I understand now, that you use those words interchangeably. I wish I’d understood sooner, and I’d had a chance to tell you before… _before_.”

Cas yawned and tried to keep his eyes open, but it had been a very long couple of days and his body was exhausted-- physically, emotionally, and to the deepest core of his soul. He wanted to stay awake for Dean, to keep him company and more importantly to be ready should he spontaneously recover from the curse. It was no use, and eventually he succumbed to sleep.

Hours later, in the wee hours of the morning, Cas awoke to the bed shaking and bouncing. He snapped awake in a panic and switched on the light, only to see Dean rapidly transforming. His branches grew longer and thicker, becoming arms again, and his legs stretched out beneath the covers through the crinkling of the plastic bag Cas had wrapped around him. The last of the pine needles transformed into Dean’s hair, slightly rumpled, as he blinked his eyes against the light and found Cas. Dean stared at him wide-eyed for just a moment before pulling Cas into a clenching tight hug.

“Cas, it’s so good to see you again,” Dean said, his voice rough and choked.

“Dean,” was all Cas could manage before his emotions got the better of him. They just hugged and breathed and spent a minute feeling grateful that the curse seemed to have broken.

Dean finally loosened his grip and leaned back to look into Cas’s relieved face. “I did hear everything you said. All of it,” Dean said. “And you’re right, you know. I guess I thought you always knew what I meant when I said I needed you.”

Cas nodded and swallowed hard. “Well I know now, and that’s all that matters.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something else, shifting closer to Cas under the covers, and froze as the plastic bag crinkled at his waist. He frowned at Cas, and then lifted the blankets to peer down at himself. His legs had poked two holes in the bag, which he was now wearing like the world’s worst pair of underpants.

“Okay, before this goes any further, I gotta get some actual pants.”

Cas couldn’t help but laugh as Dean let him go and slid out bed, crinkling as he went. He waddled across the room and shimmied out of the bag as he dug through his duffel for a pair of boxers. He pulled them on and smirked over his shoulder at Cas.

“By the way,  _ now  _ we’re even on the naked and exposed thing. I hope you’re not uncomfortable.”

Cas felt a flush of warmth across his cheeks and didn’t know how to answer. Dean smiled at him and came back to bed, but he left a little space between them.

“So now that I’m not made of wood anymore, how about we--”

Dean was cut off by a knock at the door, and Sam calling out from the hall.

“Cas, is everything okay in there? I thought I heard laughing.”

It was Dean who called back, “Everything’s peachy, Sam. You can stop looking for a cure already and get some shuteye. We’re going home in the morning.”

There was a pause before Sam said, “Dean? Is that you? You’re okay?”

“Well I’m tired, and kinda hungry, but yeah. Flesh and blood and back to normal.”

There was a slightly longer pause before Sam spoke again. “And, uh, you’re not gonna open the door?”

“Tired, Sam. We’re all good, okay?”

“Okay. That’s good, I guess. Um. Night.”

“Goodnight, Sam,” Cas replied as Sam headed back to his room.

“What were you saying about being woody?” Cas asked, a knowing smirk on his face as Dean’s eyes went wide.

“You knew what you were saying that entire time, didn’t you, you sneaky fucker,” Dean said, his voice tinged with wonder.

Cas just shrugged, and Dean tackled him to the mattress.

“God, I love you so damn much, and I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”

“That sounds like a plan,” Cas replied, now that what had seemed like an eternity of pining was finally at an end.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank y'all for reading, and I hope you had a bit of a laugh through all the weeping. :P
> 
> If you're up for some more traditional pining, please let me direct you to the [Dean/Cas Pinefest Collection on AO3.](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DeanCasPinefest)
> 
> A direct link to the tumblr post for this fic can be found [here.](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/177468716110/pinefestrating-t-words-5500-tags-crack-pining)
> 
> As usual, I'm [mittensmorgul](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/) over on the tumbls. Come by and say hi. :)


End file.
